


The Giant's Face

by wolfinred (clare_dragonfly)



Series: Recovery [1]
Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Pre-Het, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-12
Updated: 2010-05-12
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/207861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clare_dragonfly/pseuds/wolfinred
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The team hunts a serial killer who is forcing his victims into a virtual reality device for their last days, but the urgency is ratcheted up when one of their number goes missing.</p><p>Contains references to drug addiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Giant's Face

Spencer is sure he knows this story.

It must be one of the ones his mother used to read to him as a child, because he can't seem to recite it start to finish. But a few things have jumped out at him with that deja vu feeling he knows isn't just deja vu. That feeling means he's heard it or seen it somewhere. It's somewhere in his memory if he can just dig deep enough.

But knowing it's there doesn't help him find it. And finding it might not help him escape.

\--

"Hey, kid," Morgan greeted him, punctuating it with a punch to the shoulder. "What's shaking?"

Spencer rubbed his shoulder. "Ow," he said, even though it had been years since Morgan had hit him hard enough to hurt. Then he remembered to return the greeting. "Nothing much, what's shaking with you?" The words tumbled out of his mouth like he'd lost control of his lips. It always sounded like that when he didn't quite understand what he was saying but said it anyway. He should stop doing that.

"It's a fine day," Morgan said, walking to his desk with a bounce in his step. "And I had a fine night."

"With a fine woman?" Emily guessed, barely glancing up from the paperwork in front of her.

"Oh yes," said Morgan, sitting down and kicking back. "Fine she was."

"Why am I not surprised." Emily didn't phrase it as a question.

Morgan raised his eyebrows at her. "And what's wrong with that?"

"Never said there was anything wrong." Emily moved a group of papers from one stack to another with a thump.

"You jealous?"

"Ha, of her? Hardly."

Spencer worked on his own paperwork and listened to the banter, as usual, not contributing much. But he didn't have to. They didn't criticize him whether he did or not. He thought that maybe they were happy to have him around either way.

Then JJ appeared in the bullpen, folder in hand, heralding new horrors as usual. Not that Spencer would ever blame her. Her job is to find the ones they can stop. "Guys," she said, her expression concerned and her voice slightly strained, and he knew it was a bad one. "Hotch wants us all up in the conference room."

\--

He knows how the unsub's done it, of course (and he doesn't have time to worry about what this drug is doing to his system, even as part of his mind shuts down and gibbers in terror because what if he can't get out from under it?). He woke up with the machine attached to him. He can feel it, pressing against his temples and his wrists, but even that is probably only because he knows it's there. He can't find the rest of the real world. The machine overwhelms his senses, because that's what it's designed to do.

He climbs the green stalk. He can only hope this is what he needs to do. He's high enough now that he can't see the tiny cottage, but he still can't see anything above him but clouds. But the stalk doesn't fall or bend, so he keeps climbing.

\--

JJ clicked her remote and three pictures appeared on the screen: the faces of two women and one man. They all had peculiar burns on their temples, and their faces seemed sunken. "Kathy Sutton, Yolanda Weaver, and Wade Newman," JJ narrated. Kathy was white, young and blonde; Yolanda and Wade were black, but Wade looked young while Yolanda was middle-aged, with tinges of white beginning to creep into her natural hair.

"Were they..." Emily's voiced was choked, like she couldn't really get out the words. "Were they starved to death?"

JJ shook her head, her lips tight. "They were starved and dehydrated, but only for a few days. The medical examiner found large amounts of lorazepam in their systems."

"That's Ativan, right?" Morgan asked.

"Death by lorazepam overdose is actually really rare," Spencer said, nodding at Morgan to tell him he was right.

"That's part of why the DC LEOs want us on the case," JJ said. "They've seen lorazepam overdoses before, but never this many at once, so it's pretty clear this is deliberate, especially since the medical examiner found what are probably needle marks in their necks. The victims also all have these burns on their temples..." She clicked the remote again, now showing three pairs of thin wrists, corresponding to the three victims, with faint burn lines encircling them. "And on their wrists."

"Do they have anything else in common?" Rossi asked.

JJ shook her head. "Just that they all lived in the DC area."

"Victimology's going to be tough," Hotch muttered.

"I think I know what that is," Spencer realized out loud. Images flashed in his mind, of a machine that clipped onto the body in those two places, covering the eyes and stimulating the nerves in the brain and the hands.

"Reid, you saying you've seen this before?" Morgan asked, turning to him.

He shook his head quickly. "No, but... I read an article..." He grabbed the laptop in the middle of the table and did a quick search. Soon he'd found the article he remembered reading a few days ago. "It's a virtual reality device. Total immersion. Really cool new technology." He felt excitement bubbling up within him as he once again read a quote about how realistic the experience was for testers. He quashed it quickly. Even if he didn't understand why, people were dying for this.

He spun the laptop around so everyone else could look at the pictures. There was a moment of silence while they all took it in. Finally, Emily said, "So someone is killing people with this device?"

Morgan shook his head, still staring. "Not killing them. Drugging them to keep them in the virtual world until they overdose."

"We have to take this case," said Hotch, already standing up.

Rossi grabbed his coat from the back of his chair. "I'm just glad we don't have to go too far."

\--

His head is in the clouds now--literally, unlike the way people usually use that expression, to say that someone is thinking impractically. It just looks like fog around him, but that's really what fog is. He can still see the stalk, so he keeps climbing.

And then suddenly he breaks free of the clouds, and they're all around him, like a sea of white. The sun is bright and hot but not blinding. Then as he turns his head to look around, he realizes that the clouds are not in fact all around him. Behind him is a castle.

He blinks at the impossibility of it. Clouds aren't solid. Nothing can rest atop them. But the illogic triggers something else in his brain and he's once again sure he knows the story. It's still hard for him to get past his brain enough to step onto the cloud, despite seeing that the building doesn't fall. He reminds himself that if he doesn't finish the story, he'll never get out, takes a deep breath--is it just his virtual body or does he really breathe deeply?--and steps out.

\--

They met the DC police at their station, and for a while everything was business as usual--looking through files for similar crimes, figuring out victimology. Spencer knew there wouldn't be any similar crimes, though. The unsub hadn't been able to do this until a few weeks ago when the technology came out. He suspected they wouldn't find a trigger, either. In fact, he wondered if the unsub's goal was even to kill people. Maybe he just wanted to give them a beautiful experience. That would mean he only knew about lorazepam's sedative and anti-anxiety properties, not its amnesia-inducing properties, but Ativan was usuall prescribed for the first properties, not the last. If the unsub wasn't a doctor, he probably only knew about its popular uses.

This all went through his mind at the same time as he stood in front of his map, marking the places where the victims' bodies were dumped in one color marker and the places they lived in another color. It didn't help.

"Anything, Reid?" Hotch asked.

Spencer shook his head, though his eyes flicked rapidly over the map again and again, looking for a connection. "The sites are too spread out. All I can say for sure is that the unsub is somewhere in DC."

Morgan looked up from the file he was poring over. "Reid, you know more about this virtual reality thing than any of us. What can we say about an unsub who uses it?"

He pursed his lips. "He knows technology. He's probably a computer programmer--he's setting up the virtual realities himself."

"He obviously wants control," Morgan said.

"Right. If he were having someone else program the device, they would notice something was up. Also, while these are commercially available they're very expensive. So he either has a lot of disposable income or he works for the company that makes them."

"Well, what's the company?" Emily asked. "We can have Garcia send us a list of employees."

"Innovo Technology."

Morgan immediately set his cell on the table. It rang once, and then a familiar voice answered, "Goddess of all things information, how may I help you?"

"Hey, baby girl," Morgan said. Spencer wondered, not for the first time, when those two were going to get married already. He caught Emily's eye, and they both turned away to keep from laughing, knowing they were thinking the same thing. Morgan was continuing, "You're on speaker. We need a list of employees for Innovo Technology."

"Oh come on, give me something worth the money they pay me," was Garcia's response. Spencer could just hear the tapping of her fingernails against her keyboard.

"Narrow it to upper-level employees," said Emily. "We don't want janitors or interns--we're looking for people actually working closely with the technology, or who can afford to buy it."

"Still not worth it," said Garcia. "And they don't pay me much."

"Take out... anyone with a family they're close to," Rossi said. "This guy needs to spend time with his victims, and he's obviously injecting them with Ativan pretty frequently for them to overdose."

Spencer heard a chime through the phone. "All right, that might be worth the money. The list is in all your inboxes."

"Thank you, beautiful," Morgan said, picking up the phone. "We'll try to give you some real work next time."

"I've got some hard work for you to do, hot stuff." Garcia giggled and hung up.

\--

The cloud holds his weight. He has to remind himself that this is virtual reality, and suddenly realizes he hasn't been feeling the pressure of the device. He stops and concentrates, and then it's there again, like a lightweight crown and bracelets, holding him down. At least he still has some contact with his physical body.

Then he shakes himself. He can't stop. The longer he stays in the device, the more his body wastes away and the more the drug degrades his system. Even if he can't feel the hunger, it has to be there. He leaps toward the castle, the clouds just as springy as they look, and is at the door in moments.

The door is five times his height.

Right. It's a giant's castle.

Before he can knock or look for another way in, the door swings open. A giantess looks down at him.

She has his mother's face.

\--

It was their second day on the case, and they still hadn't gotten anywhere. They had their list of potential unsubs, but there were thirty people on it, and after speaking to the supervisors at Innovo, they had only been able to eliminate four. They didn't have much of a profile. They didn't even know which of the six people who had gone missing since the last body was found might be the unsub's next victim.

"Remember, there's still a chance to save the victim, even if the unsub has them already," Hotch said quietly. No one responded.

Morgan sighed, leaned back in his seat, and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. Let me think. What have we got for a profile so far?"

"The unsub is most likely a white male in his thirties or forties," Rossi recited.

"He has a need for control," Emily continued. "He works as a scientist or computer programmer, and starvation is a form of torture, so he might be a sexual sadist... except that he displays no gender or racial preference."

"Actually, I don't think he's a sadist at all," Spencer said. He'd been working on this theory for a while, and now he was ready to explain it.

Morgan lowered his hands and looked at him. "Reid, he's drugging and starving them. How is that not torture?"

"No, no, it is," he quickly tried to explain, "but he's not thinking of it that way." He stood up and pointed to the photo they had up on the board of the device. "This is a virtual reality device. It's meant for pleasure, entertainment. I mean, there are military and medical applications as well, but let's focus on what most people will think of. Video games."

"Reid..." Morgan started.

"No, no, let him finish," said Hotch.

Spencer gave Hotch a tiny, appreciative smile before continuing. "And he's giving them Ativan, which is mostly a sedative. I think he's seeing this as a kind of... final reward. Giving them pleasure before they die."

"You think he's an Angel of Death," said Rossi.

Spencer nodded. "Death might not be his goal at all, but if that were the case, I think we would be hearing from people who had been captured but not killed. They might not remember what happened to them after they were drugged, but they would certainly be aware of missing time and ending up somewhere unexpected."

"Hey, kid." Morgan grinned at him. "That's not a bad idea."

"Not a bad idea at all," said Hotch. "Let's start looking for people with trauma in their past who might have created their own morality."

\--

"Mom?" he says, quietly, his voice choked. Is it all emotion, or is part of it his parched tongue?

He and the giantess stare at each other for a few minutes. Then the rest of the story comes to him all in a rush. He knows his next line, and hope surges in his heart. Maybe this will help. He won't metabolize the drug as quickly if he has food in his system. "Please, m--ma'am," he says, because he knows she isn't his mother, even if his subconscious puts her face on the giantess, "might I have something to eat?"

She smiles, and now he knows she's not his mother, because he can't remember his mother ever smiling like that--like there's no pain, no fear, and she doesn't worry about him. "Certainly, lad," the giantess says. "You'll have to be careful of my husband, though, as you look like his idea of a delectable treat."

He nods, trying to be as polite as possible and keep his voice from shaking. "I won't cause you any trouble with him, will I, ma'am?"

"Oh, no, I can always handle him." She bends down and lifts him up, which startles him, even though he should have been expecting it. She carries him inside to a kitchen and sets him down on the table, then cuts up some cheese and bread into what must be tiny bits for her but for him make up the biggest sandwich he's ever seen. He feels his mouth watering at the sight. He snatches up the pieces and shoves them into his mouth, chewing as quickly as he can. He eats and eats, but the food dissolves before it makes it into his throat. He doesn't feel hungry, but there's no substance here.

And he realizes that the unsub can't see him. He doesn't know that Spencer is eating in the story. He doesn't care. He's just waiting for him to go through it.

Then the giantess cries, "My husband is coming! Quick, into the pantry!" She sweeps him up and into a cabinet. He hears the loud, heavy footsteps of the giant, and then the demand for food. The giantess soothes him, sits him down, and offers him what she's just given Spencer.

There's a small hole in the cabinet door. He doesn't want to look at the giant. He's afraid of whose face he'll see.

\--

Day three, and still they hadn't uncovered anything. There were two new missing persons reports. Hotch sent Spencer and Emily to talk to the mother of Shanna Armfield, who had reported her missing. He and Morgan were talking to the boyfriend of the other missing person. They didn't expect to learn anything useful, but there was always a chance.

Mrs. Armfield opened the door almost immediately. She was in her fifties or sixties, with a halo of fried blonde hair and a thin, drawn face. "Yes?" she asked, her voice businesslike.

"FBI, ma'am," said Emily. "I'm Agent Prentiss, and this is Dr. Reid. We'd like to ask you a few questions about your daughter. Can we come in?"

Mrs. Armfield gasped and clutched at her pearl necklace. "Shanna--is she--"

Emily quickly shook her head. "She's still missing. We'd just like to ask a few questions that might help us track her down."

Mrs. Armfield took a gulp of air and nodded. "Come in," she said, her voice shaky. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, thank you," said Emily as they followed her in.

They looked around the living room for a few minutes while Mrs. Armfield made the tea. If Spencer wasn't sure the unsub was male and much younger than Mrs. Armfield, he might suspect her. She obviously had the need for control that so many killers shared; the room was perfectly arranged and perfectly clean, with books displayed in perfect lines (they were even organized by color and size) and symmetrical curtains. There were photographs arranged as well. Spencer had just picked one up when Mrs. Armfield returned.

"This is Shanna?" he asked, holding up the picture.

She nodded, setting down the tea and hurrying over to him. "This is from five years ago. She was in high school. It was only a few months before... before..." She had to gulp air and clutch at her pearls again to compose herself. "Her father was killed. In a car accident."

"Shanna is twenty years old, correct?" Emily asked.

Mrs. Armfield took the picture from Spencer, placed it back exactly where it had been, and crossed to the couch. "Please, sit down." She suited words to actions, arranging her gray skirt neatly next to her. Emily sat down on one of the stiff-backed chairs. Spencer decided to remain standing. Mrs Armfield continued, "Yes, she turned twenty last month. And I know you're going to ask why she still lives at home--she didn't do so well after her father's death. She never finished high school. I take care of her the best I can, but..." She trailed off with a helpless gesture.

Spencer and Emily exchanged a glance. If this was a troubled youth, chances were it wasn't a kidnapping. But they couldn't rule her out as the unsub's next victim. In fact, they couldn't rule anyone out.

Emily took out the pictures of the first three victims. "I need to show you a few pictures," she said softly. "I want to warn you that they may be a little disturbing."

Mrs. Armfield nodded and drew herself up a little straighter. "If it will help you find Shanna, I can handle anything."

Emily nodded and held out the pictures one at a time. "Did you or Shanna know any of these people?"

Mrs. Armfield shook her head at each one. "No. I can't say I know all of Shanna's friends, but none of these people look familiar."

"You don't have any idea where Shanna might have gone?" Spencer asked.

"No, she's never--" The phone rang, and Mrs. Armfield jumped up nervously. "Ah, excuse me a moment."

Spencer and Emily both nodded. Mrs. Armfield rushed to the phone, which was neat and black, sitting on its own little half-circle table. "Hello? Eric?" She listened for a moment, her eyes widening. She clutched at her pearls again. "Can I--yes. Yes, I see. Eric, please! Will you just... well, if Nora is all right with it... Yes. All right. Tell her--tell her I love her. Goodbye." She hung up and buried her face in her hands for a moment, then turned back to the agents, perfectly composed again. "I'm sorry to have wasted your time. Apparently Shanna is in Atlanta with her older brother. She's perfectly safe. Thank you for your help."

Emily stood. "I'm glad to hear your daughter is safe." They left without touching their tea.

\--

Spencer looks anyway. He can't resist. While the giant eats in the kitchen, he peeks out through the hole. He doesn't see what he expected. He's so surprised his heart skips a beat.

But at least he can be pretty sure that if the giant is wearing Gideon's face, he's not going to get eaten.

\--

They were driving back to the station when Spencer's phone rang. "Reid," he answered.

"It's Hotch. Are you on your way back?"

"Yeah. Turns out Shanna Armfield is safe in Atlanta."

"Good." Hotch didn't sound surprised, but then he never did. "They've found another body."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment. Another body, and they were no closer. He could only hope that this fourth victim would give them enough information to catch the killer. "Okay. We'll be there in what, five minutes?" He looked to Emily for confirmation, and she nodded.

"Good. See you soon." Hotch hung up.

Spencer exhaled, flipped his phone shut, and turned to Emily. "There's another victim."

She gritted her teeth. "I guess there would be." He heard the SUV accelerate slightly.

\--

He watches Gideon--the giant--sling a sack full of gold onto the table, count it, and then wander off. The giantess opens his cabinet, then leaves as well. Spencer jumps down onto the table and considers the sack. He knows he's supposed to steal it, but even if the concept didn't make him sick, he's not sure how he's going to manage it. It's nearly as big as he is.

When he grasps it, though, it's surprisingly light. The unsub must have programmed it that way, to make it easier to follow the story. He throws it over his shoulder and jumps down from the table. He's sweating all over, sure he'll be caught by one of the giants, but they must be sleeping. He runs outside and finds the stalk again.

He wants to climb right back up once he's at the bottom, get the story over faster, but he turns toward the cottage, where there is an old woman who thankfully bears no resemblance to anyone he knows, and lethargy overtakes him. He stumbles a few steps, then falls to the ground, asleep. His last thought is, _I just hope this isn't the end._

\--

Morgan came into the conference room moments after Emily and Spencer returned. "I've just been with the coroner," he announced. "He says it's a little hard to tell, because of the starvation and all the drugs, but he's pretty sure this victim died less than twelve hours ago. And yes, I checked the marks against the photos. They're the same."

"Okay," said Spencer. He'd just had time to shed his messenger bag and jacket. He moved to the board and picked up his markers. "What are my locations?"

"The problem is," said JJ, "we only have one. We don't have an ID on this victim, and we definitely have no idea where he was last seen. We're guessing he's a transient."

"The dump site is here," said Hotch, pointing.

Spencer marked it on his map and immediately let out a sigh. "That helps a lot, actually. The unsub is most likely in this area." He circled it with a different color marker.

"Why do you say that?" Emily asked.

"All the dump sites are vaguely centered in the same area. I think this unsub would have wanted to get the bodies far away from him. If my theory is correct, death isn't his goal, so he wouldn't want to be around it. But since he cares about his victims in some way, he obviously won't want to destroy their bodies by throwing them in the river or anything."

Rossi nodded. "That fits with how the most recent body was found. Curled up in the fetal position in an unused alley off a fairly well-used street."

"Shows remorse," Morgan agreed. He approached Reid's map and stared at it. "I'm not sure that area fits with the rest of the profile, though. That's a pretty run-down place. How can someone who lives there afford this virtual reality device?"

"Maybe he spends all his money on technology," Hotch suggested. "But you're right. I think we can eliminate all the CEOs and other people who make a lot of money."

"Well, that's progress," said JJ. They all went tiredly back to their files, but after a few minutes Hotch threw his file closed and stood up.

"Reid, come on."

Spencer stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Where are we going?"

"To talk to the people at Innovo again. You weren't there last time, so you might see something we missed, and I'll notice if anything has changed. Plus, assuming the unsub is there, he might think we're onto him, panic and slip up."

Spencer nodded. It was a better idea than any he'd come up with. He quickly grabbed his bag and followed his boss out.

*--

It isn't the end. He wakes up again and it seems to be morning. He's hungry. Is it Jack who's hungry or Spencer? Thinking of the character by name for the first time makes him smile a little to himself. Maybe Jack Hotchner would enjoy something like this. Of course he would. He's a little boy, isn't he?

If he doesn't get out of here, he might never see that little boy again.

Spencer (yes, he's still Spencer) doesn't waste any time with the bag of gold or the cottage. He begins to climb the stalk again. As he does he wonders if time is passing in this simulation at the same time as it passes in real life. Is it now the morning after he was kidnapped? Or is it even later? He doesn't know how long he might have slept, under the influence of the drug, before the virtual reality took over. He has no idea how many times he might have been injected.

How much time does he have left?

He climbs faster.

\--

"This is really fascinating stuff," Spencer said. And while he did hope saying that would help gain the scientists' trust, he also really meant it. It wasn't the virtual reality machine they were showing him; that project was complete, apparently, so they were no longer focused on it, though he had noticed one man had been disappointed when that came up in conversation. What the scientists were showing him now was a prototype for an actual teleportation device. How could he not be fascinated?

"Just like Star Trek, right?"

He could tell the scientist--a fiftyish, balding white man named Noah Adkisson--was patronizing him because he looked young and Adkisson couldn't believe Dr. Reid had as much right to his PhDs as he had himself, but Spencer let it go in favor of harmony. "Well, yes, it's similar, though yours doesn't seem to leave a trail of glowing lights behind. Actually, it was never explained how the transporter on Star Trek works, so there's no way to compare the mechanisms." For once his random knowledge earned some appreciative grins. "It does work, doesn't it?" he asked, bending to inspect it again.

"To an extent," responded the other scientist showing him the machine, a relatively young woman named Adelaide Finnell. "We're able to move fairly regular structures--crystals, mainly--short distances, but we're still pretty stuck on organic materials. The cells in even a simple blade of grass get pretty scrambled up."

Spencer nodded and straightened up. "I guess you haven't tested it on anything living yet."

"That's probably years in the future," said Adkisson with a wistful sigh. "We just have to program it to recognize more and more complex patterns, but even then, we can't know if a living creature would continue living after the transportation."

Spencer would have filed that information away in his brain, if he'd needed to do such a thing. But truly, he would not be surprised if in a few months or years they saw an unsub who kidnapped or killed his victims with a teleportation device. "I'll have to tell my mom about this--she's terrified of flying, so she'll like the idea that there might someday be an easier way." Spencer told his mother everything, of course, but it felt good to know there was a bit of news that might make her smile. She worried about him too much.

"That's what we're all about here at Innovo," said Adkisson, with a genuine smile this time. "Making people's lives easier."

Spencer straightened up and looked at the scientists again. "Thank you for taking the time to show this to me."

"No problem," said Finnell with a friendly smile. "We like showing off our work. But I think your boss wants to go," she added, nodding toward the doorway.

Spencer glanced over. Hotch was indeed giving him an "it's-time-to-go" look. He gave an awkward little wave to the two scientists. "Thanks again." He grabbed his messenger bag so it wouldn't fly away from his body and jogged over to the door.

"Anything?" Hotch asked him as they walked quickly back to the SUV.

"Jay Dunleavy," Spencer said. "He wanted to show off the virtual reality device. He was disappointed that no one else was interested."

Hotch nodded, already flipping open his phone. "Garcia, it's me," he said as he climbed in to the driver's seat. "Get us everything you can on Dr. Jay Dunleavy."

\--

Stealing the hen is just as easy as stealing the gold was. The giant's angry voice follows him out of the castle, and he constantly looks behind him, hoping that this is the time the giant follows him down. Isn't that how the story ends? If he can get to the ending faster, maybe he can go free.

But when he reaches the top of the stalk, the giant is still in the castle. When he climbs to the bottom, no one has followed him, not even the sound. His hands shake as he sets the hen down on the table in the little cottage. Whose hands are shaking, Spencer's or Jack's? Are they shaking with hunger or with another, more desperate need?

\--

"Are you guys ready for this?" came Garcia's voice from the speaker on Morgan's phone.

"Baby girl, I am always ready for you," said Morgan back. "Hit me."

"Ooh, I don't think you _are_ , handsome. Jay Dunleavy divorced his wife four years ago, but--get this--he only just lost joint custody of his kids a month and a half ago, and mom and kids skedaddled off to Vermont. He lives in a big, fancy gentrified place up in Columbia Heights, all by his lonesome."

"Where'd he get that kind of money?" asked Rossi. "He's the kind of scientist who lives off government grants."

"It was his wife's. Apparently she couldn't stand him enough that she just let him have the place so she could leave."

"Anything else, Garcia?" Hotch asked.

"You know I get you what you need. Since that virtual reality machine is so rare and expensive, it's easy to find lists of purchases. Dunleavy? He's on a list."

Morgan picked up the phone. "Thanks, beautiful."

"Oh, you can thank me later. Ciao!"

"That doesn't fit with the geographic profile," Spencer said, thinking. He wasn't sure about Dunleavy, but he had to admit that between what he'd observed at Innovo and what Garcia had dug up, he was a solid suspect.

"No, but it's not close to the dump sites, either," said Hotch. "I think he looks good for it."

"Real good," agreed Rossi.

"Good enough for a warrant?" JJ asked, skeptical.

Hotch stood up. "Let's go find out."

\--

Spencer climbs the stalk a third time. He's sure his limbs are feeling the fatigue now, but he doesn't seem to move any more slowly. It's just psychological exhaustion that's catching up with him. In this virtual reality world, everything is psychological.

He tries to get the giantess with his mother's face to give him food again, but this time she shoos him away, warning him that if her husband catches him, he'll be eaten for sure. She looks less like his mother now, though. Her face is smooth, her eyes alert. She doesn't worry that he isn't eating enough or that he's doing dangerous things. She just tells him to go away, something Diana Reid would never, ever say.

But he knows he has to get in, has to steal a third time. And this time he doesn't feel so bad because his heartstrings aren't being wrenched quite so hard... and maybe he's getting used to it, getting to like the thrill of the forbidden. He hides beside the door, and when she goes out, he sneaks in. He looks at the cabinet where he's been hidden before, but she might notice him there, so instead he crawls into a relatively tiny space between an enormous oven and the wall.

\--

"Warrant's here," JJ announced. "Good thing we know which DC judges are likely to be sympathetic."

"Let's go," Hotch said. He snapped out orders as they all hurried to get ready. Morgan started talking through a plan of attack.

Spencer had to hang onto his seatbelt as they sped through the streets of DC. The house wasn't all that far, but it was rush hour, and Hotch kept taking shortcuts through alleys and over curbs. Despite the mild fear of traffic, Spencer focused, deep within himself, on the possibility that they would soon catch their man and thereby save lives.

He, Hotch, and Rossi were on the front door while Prentiss and Morgan went around. Hotch pounded on the door, three heavy knocks. "Jay Dunleavy, FBI," he called.

Spencer listened. They weren't expecting anyone to be home. Innovo clearly had a culture much like the BAU's, in which the employees weren't strictly expected to stay overtime, but usually did anyway, trying to get as much done as they could. There was no sound from inside the house. Hotch counted off, then slammed the door open.

They ran into the house and checked each room. Spencer headed for the kitchen, looking around for a basement door. He found one and ran downstairs, calling for Morgan to follow him. Morgan, after all, had a flashlight.

The basement was unfinished and dry, with shelves and piles of stuff everywhere, including several old computers (Spencer did not allow himself to be distracted by the shelf of dusty, leatherbound books). Just the sort of place they would expect to find someone strapped into a machine. Once they had satisfied themselves that they had looked around all the available space in the basement, they checked the walls for hidden doors. Nothing there, just cool cement.

Spencer heard Emily calling his name from upstairs. Morgan said he'd check around the basement one more time, so Spencer followed the voice. He found Emily and Hotch in a second-floor room with thin blue carpet and rocket-ship wallpaper. A boy's bedroom. There were clear bright patches on the walls and carpet; there had been furniture here not too long ago, even if there wasn't now.

The virtual reality device was sitting on the floor where the bed had been.

"Reid, we didn't know what to look for," said Emily. "How can you tell if he's been using this thing?"

Spencer bent down to look at it, though he was already shaking his head, knowing that there was no way this machine had been in use. Dunleavy wasn't the unsub. He was just a sad father who'd lost his children. "He'd need a chair of some sort to put them in," he said. "He'd probably have to tie them down." He touched the metal of the machine. "It's cool, and a little dusty. It's been sitting here for a while." He stood slowly, minding his knee, which had started to ache slightly. "I think Dunleavy's son must have liked video games. This has the look of a tribute."

Hotch nodded tiredly. "You're right. That's what I thought as soon as I walked in." And Hotch would know, of course, about having a son he missed.

The others all converged, eventually, on that room. "Did anyone find anything like a secluded chair that he could have tied people to?" Hotch asked. Spencer knew before they answered that it would be no.

They heard shouting as they reached the first floor, making them hurry their steps towards the front door. When they got outside, they saw Dunleavy shouting at JJ and the SWAT agents waiting outside, who were restraining him. He turned on Hotch and Reid, recognizing them. "This is an invasion of privacy! I know my rights!"

Hotch produced the warrant from his pocket and put it into the scientist's gesturing hand. "We had probable cause, but we were wrong. I apologize, Dr. Dunleavy." Hotch didn't remove his hand and looked into the man's eyes. "I'm sorry about your divorce. I know how hard it can be to be separated from your children."

All the righteous indignation seemed to go out of Dunleavy instantly. He looked at the warrant, then back up at Hotch, looking hopeless and a little confused. "What did you think I'd done?"

No one wanted to answer that question. Spencer stepped forward, and saw Dunleavy recognize him. "Dr. Dunleavy," he said, "do you know of any of your colleagues who seemed unusually interested in the virtual reality device?"

That made the scientist even more confused. "No... no, I don't think so. A lot of us worked on it, of course, but it's been pretty well forgotten since we finished."

Spencer nodded. He'd expected that answer. "What about someone who seems particularly interested in easing the pain of others? He might have talked about how the virtual reality device would help people forget their troubles."

Dunleavy laughed weakly. "Dr. Reid, we don't work at Innovo because we want to get rich. I think almost everyone said something like that at one time or another."

"Thank you for your help," said Hotch. "If you think of anyone in particular who might fit Dr. Reid's questions, please give us a call." He handed Dunleavy his card.

The scientist nodded. His hand shook as he took the card and stashed it in his pocket. "I will." JJ walked with him to the door, talking softly. The other agents got slowly back in their cars.

\--

Spencer holds his breath as the giant half tears apart the kitchen, looking for the source of the man smell. He's snapping and grumbling about it, just like Gideon when he can't find something at his desk, and it's all Spencer can do not to try to talk to him. He has to remind himself again and again that this _isn't_ Gideon, this is a fairy-tale giant, and he's actually trying to eat him.

Eventually the giant gives up, and the giantess soothes him and brings in his harp. The harp, obedient to her master, plays something upbeat and happy, then something sweet, then a slow, soothing tune. By the end of the last tune the giant is asleep.

\--

Hotch emerged from his office--they were back at the BAU, mostly for a change of scenery, since being outside of DC proper wasn't going to make much of a difference. There were bags under his eyes. "It's nine o'clock," he said. "I'm going home, and I expect you all to do the same. We'll have a much easier time catching this guy if we've all had a good night's sleep."

Everyone tried to protest, but of course, Hotch knew they would, and he waved it away. "If you're not ready for sleep yet, have some dinner or something. Talk about anything other than this case. Now, I'm going to try to catch Jack before he goes to bed."

Morgan sighed and stood up. "Hotch is right. Who's up for some Italian food?"

"Count me in," said Spencer, realizing that he hadn't had anything to eat since breakfast. He could hear his mom's voice in his head, scolding him for being to skinny, like she did every time she saw him. Might as well try to appease her with some lasagna before he went home to write his nightly letter.

"I am always up for good Italian food," Rossi said, putting a faint emphasis on the "good" and raising an eyebrow at Morgan.

Morgan managed a smile. "Don't you trust me, Rossi? I've got a nice place in mind."

"I'll come along," said Emily. "JJ?"

She shook her head. "Just talked to Will. He's kept some casserole warm for me."

Emily sighed enviously. "Someday maybe I'll have a husband like him."

JJ gave her a grin. "I'm sure you will."

They did manage to drag Garcia out of her office, so it was a cozy little group at the restaurant, the five of them. They all had to steer the conversation away from the case at one point or another--once Garcia did it by asking Spencer for Star Trek trivia, which he was only too happy to supply--but by the time they were done Spencer felt a little more relaxed. Morgan offered him a ride home, but he declined; the restaurant was only a few blocks from his apartment, and it was a beautiful night. Besides, the walk would be good for his knee and his digestion.

He was less than a block from home when he felt a presence at his back and, before he could react, a needle in his neck.

\--

Once the giantess has left the room, Spencer slips out. He has to climb the table legs, but it isn't any harder than climbing the beanstalk. He keeps his face turned away from the sleeping giant. The harp, when he reaches it, is as tall as he is, and it has its eyes closed. He heard it talk to the giant, and he knows it's self-aware, so he sneaks up to it as quietly as he can. The table is well-constructed and doesn't squeak.

He manages to pick it up by the end without the woman and ponders how to get down, now that only one arm is free. But there's an empty chair, and he jumps down. It hurts his knees, but it hurts both of them equally, and the pain goes away after just a moment. He remembers, again, this is just a simulation, all in his mind. He shouldn't have to keep reminding himself of that.

He scrambles down from the chair and holds the harp tightly against himself. The door seems miles away, but he forces himself forward.

Then the harp begins to scream.

\--

Derek is trying not to panic. Why Reid? Why is it always Reid?

They'll find him again. Just like they did before. They'll save him.

Maybe he'll manage to save himself, just like they did before. But there's one crucial difference between now and Tobias Hankel: now, they have no way of communicating with Reid. And Reid is the genius they need to catch this guy.

And this time, he's been missing for ten hours before they even realized he was gone.

"Victimology," says Hotch, loud and forceful. "Why Reid?" He's trying to bury his fear under professionalism. Derek is doing the same. He's not as good at it as Hotch. His eyes won't focus.

"This guy is a predator," says Rossi. "Reid looks weak."

Prentiss shakes her head. "Not if Reid is right about the profile. The unsub must have thought Reid was miserable. Isn't he trying to cheer them up?"

If Reid is right. "Or he might be afraid that Reid is onto him," Derek offers. "Trying to avoid being caught."

Prentiss shakes her head again, more firmly. "No. If that's the case, he won't want to wait for Reid to succumb to his machine. He'll kill him straight out." And we can't harbor the possibility that Reid is already dead, is what everyone is thinking. "And we haven't found a body," is what Prentiss says.

"This isn't helping," Hotch mutters. He raises his voice back to normal levels. "Let's go through those lists Garcia found. The people who have bought the virtual reality device. There's a lot of names, but it's another angle."

They work at it for hours. Thankfully, they can eliminate more than half the names immediately because they have no connection to DC. Derek drinks three cups of coffee. His head is pounding, but he can't afford to let his concentration go. It's past midnight but every moment they're not finding the unsub is another moment Reid is trapped in some virtual world, without anything to eat or drink. They can't stop.

\--

Spencer starts to run, clutching the harp against his chest. He can't reach around it well enough to stop the screaming mouth. He just has to get away as quickly as he can.

He hears the giant's chair scrape back just as he reaches the door. He shoulders it open, knowing that will hurt later, and runs across the cloud to where he can see the beanstalk waiting for him.

Behind him, the world shakes with the giant's roars.

\--

Reid has been missing for more than a day. They've spoken to everyone on the lists who lives in the DC area. Many of them have allowed the agents into their house. Rich people always have something to hide, but none of these are killers, not even by accident. And Emily knows, as soon as she's approached each house, that Spencer is in none of them. A house trying to hide Spencer would have to be closed off, straining to prevent his genius from escaping. All of these houses are outwardly focused, crying to the rest of the world, "look! we're rich!" Emily has experience with houses like that.

She's back at the BAU, sucking down yet another cup of coffee and peering at one of the files of a man who bought a virtual reality device, when Hotch's phone rings. "It's Dunleavy," he says, and everyone quiets down, waiting to hear what the Innovo scientist will tell them.

"Uh-huh," says Hotch. Emily realizes she's straining to hear the other end of the phone conversation, but it's too soft. "Thanks," Hotch says, and flips his phone shut. He looks up at the team. "Dunleavy remembered something."

\--

It's so hard to climb down the beanstalk with the harp clutched in one arm, especially since it won't stop that awful screaming. Spencer has to feel for footholds and hang on with his free arm. At the same time, he's watching the top for the giant. He wills himself to move faster, but there isn't any faster to go. Except straight down.

\--

This time the warrant is harder to get. There's no evidence that Adkisson ever purchased a virtual reality device. Hotch calls his supervisor at Innovo, but he doesn't think Adkisson ever took home one of the prototypes. Eventually they decide to just try to talk to him, with SWAT and an ambulance standing by.

He's not at work, which is what made Dunleavy think of him. He said it was unusual for Adkisson to miss any work, until fairly recently, and that he was one of the ones who worked hardest on the virtual reality device, putting in many long hours. Adkisson also, as Hotch quickly found out from Garcia, lives in the area where Reid thought the unsub would. And he was talking to Reid the other day. If nothing else, they can say they want his help.

They also know from Garcia that Adkisson was raised by his grandparents after his father killed his mother in their home and was institutionalized. That's practically a blueprint for a serial killer. The judge might not think it's enough, but the profilers know it is.

They use the same configuration as they used at Dunleavy's house, despite the almost physical ache of missing Reid's presence at his back. Adkisson's house is much smaller and barely has a yard for Morgan and Prentiss to use to get around back. When Hotch is sure they're in place, he knocks on the door, holding himself from pounding as hard as he'd like. After a few minutes, Adkisson comes to the door. His face is pale, and his eyes widen at the sight of Hotch.

"Dr. Adkisson, we'd like to talk to you," he says, feeling his fingers twitch toward his gun.

Adkisson backs up but doesn't close the door. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"I know that," Hotch lies.

"We just need a few minutes of your time, Dr. Adkisson," Dave says in a soothing voice. "Can we come in?"

Adkisson actually looks conflicted, but before he can decide whether to let them in or not, Hotch's earbud buzzes with Prentiss' voice.

"Hotch, there's a basement window! _I can see him!_ "

Now they don't need a warrant. "Get out of the way," Hotch snaps, pushing past Adkisson. "Where's the damn basement door?"

"I've got it, Hotch!" Morgan calls, and Hotch hears a door crash open. He hears Dave start to read the scientist his rights as the rest of the team rushes to save Spencer.

\--

He scrambles down the stalk, jumps to the ground and drops the harp, but the giant is still coming after him. When he sees the axe on the ground, he realizes that there's a part of the story he's forgotten.

He picks up the axe, but it slips from his hands. His palms are sweating too much to hold it. He stares up the stalk. He can't kill a giant with Gideon's face.

The giant is coming closer and closer. He's never seen Gideon this angry. Gideon never got this angry. The giant is shouting, but Spencer can't hear the words, won't understand them. He picks up the axe again and this time he doesn't drop it. He takes a chop at the beanstalk, like he knows he should, but he's weak and scared and the cut is shallow and anyway it's too late to matter. The giant drops down the last six feet.

Looking into Gideon's sad eyes, he drops the axe again. The giant reaches for him and lifts him as though he weighs nothing, his mouth opening wide. And everything goes black.

"He's still alive!"

"We need medical in here!"

The first voice is Emily's. The second is Morgan's. And the pressure on his wrists and temples, which he hadn't realized was there, is gone. He struggles to open his eyes, because everything is still black.

"It's okay, Spencer. Just relax. We're here. You're safe." That's Hotch. He still can't open his eyes, but obediently, he relaxes.

He tries to lick his lips, but there's no moisture to do it with, and his tongue feels heavy. At least he can move his mouth, and he knows now it's his real mouth, his real nerves, not just the synapses in his brain firing. But there's someone missing, though he can't remember why. "Gideon...?" he manages.

"He's delirious," Hotch says to someone else, his voice loud and urgent. "He needs fluids."

"Here," says an unfamiliar female voice. Something pricks Spencer in the arm. He tries to shout but it comes out as a creak, like he needs oiling. He twitches his arm away, the strongest movement he can manage to make. He can't have anything else in his system. He can't.

"Spencer. Calm down. You need an IV." Hotch is with him again, his hands holding down Spencer's arm. He tries to struggle but then remembers if Hotch thinks it's okay, it must be. He can't suppress the fear but he stops fighting.

\--

Spencer is out of the hospital now, he's safe, he's healthy, the lorazepam is out of his system, but he can't sleep. He's been tossing and turning all night, nearly falling off his narrow bed. He's sweating even though it's October. He knows what he needs but he won't do it. He won't. He can resist. He knows he can.

He can. But suddenly he realizes that he can't do it alone, and what's more, he doesn't have to. Sometimes he forgets he has friends, people who will support him--the people he knows came to rescue him, even if he can remember none of it. Maybe one of them can help him.

He runs through the team in his mind. Hotch he dismisses almost immediately. Of course the man who is his surrogate father figure will help him in any way he can, but he's devoted to the rules even more than he is to his team. He'll try to stop Spencer from putting himself in danger, and if he's that careful, he can't save anyone either. And if he can't save anyone, he might as well quit today.

Morgan would be a good choice. But he remembers the last time he told Morgan to keep something a secret and his gut twists. They've grown closer since then, and he knows the fear is irrational, but... it's still an irrational fear. Besides, the other agent is like a big brother to him--he's afraid he'll overreact, maybe tell Hotch. He doesn't need to be protected. He just needs support.

Not JJ either. She has a baby--he can't burden her with any more worries. Garcia, sweet as she is, doesn't need to have another reason to worry about him either. And Rossi is still a blank to him, the newest member of the team, aggressive and unsympathetic. Chances are he'd just get Spencer thrown off the team.

So that leaves just one person, the one he already knew was his only choice. The one who cared enough about him to notice when he was still addicted to Dilaudid, even though they'd only known each other a few months. The one whose compassion is balanced by a core of steel. The one whose face he sometimes sees when he closes his eyes, just before falling asleep.

He reaches for the phone, presses her number, and listens. She picks it up on the second ring. "Spencer?" she says, her voice thick with sleep but still showing concern. Of course, it's 2 AM--she knows he's not just calling to chat. "Is something wrong?"

"Emily," he says--whispers, really, his voice weak with relief and fear. "I need your help."

"Anything," she says, and he closes his eyes, knowing now that it's all going to be all right.


End file.
